The 63th Hunger Games
by Iamwhoiamnotanyoneelse
Summary: The 63th Hunger Games have begun, and twelve-year-old Larane surprises everyone when she manages to survive the bloodbath. But without any special combat or survival skills how long will she survive?
1. Journey

**Authors note:  
This is my first fanfiction.  
I'm not from UK or USA so there might be errors in my spelling.  
Please preview and tell me what you thought of it, and if I should continue.  
Enjoy!  
**

* * *

The lush green forest blurs when the sweat drips into my eyes.  
I wipe it away, even though I know there's no point.  
It's _so_ hot; it feels like I could be on fire without noticing any difference.  
And the heavy layer of plastic, which I'm wearing outside the tribute suit doesn't help at all.  
I can detach it from the suit, but I want to keep going until its dark.  
And either way, the backpack is heavy enough without it, and I need my hands free, so I can push my way through brambles and whatever might be blocking my path.  
I'm trying hard not to make too much noise, but I'm panting so hard, it wouldn't surprise me if the whole arena could hear me.  
The ground begins to get steeper, and - though I thought it was impossible - the walking becomes harder.  
My feet are screaming at me to stop. But I can't.  
So I keep on going, walking up the hill that seems so long, that even though I walk forever, I will never reach the top.  
I feel so lonely out here, longing for some human company.  
It is a bit ironic, because the only people I will meet here will be ruthless killers screaming for my death.  
Or they could be, and I don't want to take any chances. Not with that girl who was nice to me.  
Not with that boy who saved me from tripping in front of all Panem. Not even with Simon from my district.  
Not with anyone. I don't trust them, yet, I fear seeing them in the sky tonight.  
Maybe they are thinking about me.  
Me the 12-year old, who no one expected to live through the bloodbath.  
But I did survive, heck, I even managed to get supplies!  
District 3 - my district - rarely even make it through the bloodbath.  
And if they do, they get killed in the first couple of days, as entertainment for the Capitol.  
Just another way to keep them watching - watching until the real games begin.

I finally make it to the end of the hill, and I let out an exhausted sigh when I see that another hill,  
steeper than before, takes its place.  
The forest isn't as thick as it were before, and I feel exposed, easy for a hunting tribute to see.  
So I quickly continue this exhausting and impossible journey, only stopping when a reach a lake.  
I rapidly fill my dry throat with the clear liquid, and then I stick my hands into the water.  
I have to make a hard effort not to scream in delight.  
The water cools my red sun-burned hands, making them feel as light as feathers.  
I would like to jump all the way into the lake, to experience this feather-light feeling all over my body.  
But I need to keep on traveling, until... Well actually I'm not sure why I keep on traveling.  
Why not just stop here? There's water, and the trees cover me from the furious sun.  
But there's something pushing me forward, wanting me to go on.  
I think I'm searching for somewhere... safe.  
And even though I know I will never find it, I gather my things and start hunting.  
Hunting for safety.

Darkness comes and so does the unexpected rain.  
Suddenly, all the heat in the air vanishes, leaving me shivering in cold.  
The plastic seems to have found its purpose as it wraps around me, keeping the endless dripping of water out.  
I drag the plastic over my hair as well, and it shapes perfectly around my head.  
It does not only keep the water out, but warms me up as well. My eyelids begin to drop and my feet are dragging over the earth.  
Without the burning heat or the coldness of the water to distract me, i feel hungry and thirsty.  
I stop and open the backpack, grab one of the bottles I filled at the lake, and start gulping the water down.  
When my thirst is quenched, I pick up the backpack and start a crazy search for food.  
I pull out the things in the backpack, so I more easily can find some food.  
Rope, a blanket, matches and a knife. The bottles I found earlier… More rope.  
But no food. As I realize this my stomach gives an angry roar.  
I sink to my knees staring disbelieving at the backpack. My stomach rumbles again.  
_"Come on, think!"_ I whisper through gritted teeth.  
I need to get some food – _NOW!  
_In this need for food my mind turns half crazy.  
The thought of food blacks out every other thought, every other sense, the feeling of time and place.  
It doesn't matter that I'm in the Hunger Games; it doesn't matter that the whole of Panem might be watching me. All that matters is that I'm so hungry. All that matters is _food_.  
But I don't have any. I try to count back; how long since I ate last?  
Yesterday I couldn't eat anything; I was too nervous.  
And of course I couldn't get anything down today at breakfast.  
My stomach rumbles again more painful, more intense; my back bends over and I collapse on the forest floor, whimpering in pain.  
Only one sane thought runs through my head:_ What will happen now?_


	2. Survival

When I come to my senses again I'm lying on the wet forest floor.  
It's still dark and the rain pours down harder than before.  
The plastic is dripping wet and covered in mud, but it remains pressed to me, keeping the water out.  
My face which is the only thing not covered in plastic, is dripping wet and cold, so cold.  
I'm surprised my nose hasn't frozen to ice.

Then my stomach growl and I am reminded of my hunger.  
I strain my tired eyes searching for something to eat through the darkness.  
I can see the shadow of a small bird perched on a branch, but it will probably just fly away when I start climbing.  
Yes, I could eat some of the grass, but it is covered in the greasy mud and catching a disease is the last thing I need right now. My mind searches back, trying to remember previous Hunger Games.  
What did all those hungry tributes do? All I remember is an awful lot of blood and fighting.  
Suddenly a memory pops into my head.  
I push myself of the ground too fast; my head spins and the dark shadows of the trees blurs together for a minute.  
How long was I out?  
I pick up the knife from the pile of things that I let scattered earlier in my crazy search for food.  
It's small but sharp, perfect for piercing things.  
Somehow the thought of stabbing someone with it comes to my mind and it makes me sick.  
I want to puke but I don't have anything in my stomach. I firmly push the thought to the back of my head.  
I grab the knife tighter, remembering why I picked it up.  
I feel my way through the darkness, to one of the trees and then stick the knife into it.  
Last year one of the tributes did this, cut off some of the bark, softened it with water and then ate it.  
I'm not sure it was this kind of tree though, and my doubts are confirmed when the bark just crumble away under the knife. Frustrated I jam the knife hard into the tree.  
When I try to pull it out it's stuck.  
Oh, of all luck! I pull harder; the bark groans and more of it crumbles down, but the knife remains stuck.  
I place my foot on the tree as well and pull back with all my strength.  
The tree groan again and the bark showers me and sticks to the drenched plastic.  
The knife comes free and I fall back landing on the wet ground.  
At least my knife is free, but I'm as hungry as ever.  
I push myself up to a sitting position. Something ruffles my right hand.  
Plants. Plants!  
It wasn't for nothing I chose the edible plants station as one of my main goals.  
I grab some of the plants between my hands, trying to feel what it is, and if it is edible.  
There's the edible Spiketraffic; I can feel the spike and the thickness of the leaf. And there's the thin Wex grass as well. And I think there's poisonous Sprintweed as well, so I'll need to be extra careful not to eat any of that.  
I start sorting the plants, dividing them up.  
Sprintweed. Wex grass. Sprintweed. Spiketraffic.  
My stomach rumbles again, eager now at the thought of food.  
The pile with edible grows and grows, and it seems I will have a small feast tonight.  
When I'm satisfied with the pile – Or rather, when I can't wait to eat any longer – I push all the poisonous leafs away, covering them with earth. Then I start eating.  
A long delighted squeaking sound escapes my lips. The plants have a bitter taste, but still, the hunger makes it the best thing I've eaten. Ever. It is even better than all the rich food from the capitol.  
I'm so caught up in the eating that I jump when the anthem begins and the Capitols seal lights up the sky.  
Oh. Somehow I'd managed to forget that this was the Hunger Games.  
That, people actually die. And soon it will be my turn.  
I'd managed to forget that cameras filmed my every move. Forgotten that I'm more trapped here than in district 3.

When the anthem is over the faces begins to appear.  
Nine dead in the bloodbath, the canons told me earlier.  
But who?  
No faces from one or two. No surprises there.  
And then… Ouch.  
Simons round face appears. My face twists into a weird grimace, tears threaten to spill from my eyes.  
Fear. Horror. Anger. This is just some of the emotions that are welling up inside me.  
I barely knew Simon, never talked to him before the Hunger Games, but he – and of course my mentor – is the reason I'm still alive. He told me to take flight over fight, since I can't possibly win a fight against any of these tributes. He told me to spend my time in training doing knots and learning ways to survive, like finding food and lighting fires. I followed his advice but _he_ didn't.  
He was, after all, seventeen and muscular, but he spent the most of his time throwing knifes and tucking spears.

The faces continue to come, lightening the sky.  
The boy from district four appears, and then the girl from five, both from six, the girl from eight, the boy from eleven and both district twelve's.  
All these faces hits me like slaps to the face, leaving me trying to catch my breath.  
It's real. They're gone. Truly gone, disappeared, never to come back, never to speak one word again or feel anything ever.

Suddenly tiredness hits me like a hammer to the head. I pack the remains of my dinner, wrapping the spare plants in big leafs. I pull out the blanket from the bag and wrap it around me like a cocoon.  
I know I'm not hidden very well, but I don't know what to do. I drag my supplies to the roots of the tree, and then lie down beside it hoping no one will notice me.  
For a long time I lie in the shadow of the tree, while I try to not to think of anything.  
I'm afraid the horrors of the games will come and rob me from the only peaceful time I have when I sleep.  
I will lose that little control I have if nightmares begin to haunt my sleep.  
So I just lay here waiting, thinking of nothing but sleeping and slowly the world fades black and I am sucked into the world of dreams.

_Crack. _I shoot out of the safety of the blankets, my head whipping rapidly from side to side.  
I strain my ears, trying to hear where the source of the sound came from.  
Did I imagine it? Was it just a bird?  
It sounded very much like a branch cracking under the clumsy feet of a human.  
I shiver in fear, tears of panic pressing on my eyes, only adding to my confusion.  
I'm leaning forward on my toes, ready to bolt if- _What was that?_  
A ruffling sound too close for comfort sounds somewhere behind me.  
I snap around on my feet, my mouth open in a soundless plea.  
A movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I take a step back, leafs ruffling under my feet.  
Then a deafening scream escapes my lips as a big hand grabs my wrist and flings me to the ground.

**Authors note: What did you think about chapter 2?  
Do you have any ideas for the story? Please review! **


	3. Fighting

I land hard on my arm, stabbing pain vibrating through it, running to my head.  
The pain clouds my mind, confusion ruling everything for a blink, like darkness covering the sun.  
I hesitate a second before twisting awkwardly around, turning to the attacker.  
It's the girl from four, looking down at me, massive, muscular and beautiful; somehow she manages to be all that at the same time.  
Like me, she's covered in the plastic suit, but she has ripped the front open and the front of the jacket is soaked.  
Her hair is a fierce red, but her eyes are an ice-cold grey.  
I don't think she's in the career pack; I never saw her speaking to any of them, always walking around on her own, not talking to anyone at all.  
But just because she's not in the pack, it doesn't mean she's not as dangerous.  
Actually it's almost the opposite.  
Everything about her, the ice-cold eyes, the cruel twisted smile, even the way she is beautiful, just makes you want to stay as far away from her as possible. But staying away from her… In my case that's a bit too late.

A long dreadful shiver runs through me, as she grasps a long knife tight.  
Her cruel smile widens into an evil grin, participation and excitement shining in her eyes.  
The way she looks at me makes me feel like prey, that she can't wait to sink her teeth in.  
She lifts her arm with the knife and lets out a hushed evil laughter, flashing sharp white teeth, "Say goodbye, small one" she says between her laughs.  
I grit my teeth together, bracing myself for the knife. Anger suddenly surges through my veins.  
I will not go down easy. I will _not _die.  
So when she lowers her arm, I'm ready.  
I twist away and the knife stabs the earth, exactly where my head was just a second before.

I have no time to think, to let my mind capture that soon everything will be over.  
I'm acting on pure instinct and adrenaline, as I dodge the deadly looking knifes and slips away from her huge hands trying to get me.  
She lets out frustrated sighs and angry grunts, the strength in her blows getting more and more furious,  
and the knifes she throws at me, longer and sharper.  
Every time I move, my arm gets squashed under me, getting in my way, making it harder to move properly.  
I know I can't possibly keep turning, that soon I will be caught by the angry blade of a knife, and I take the first idea that comes to my mind.  
I stop the dodging for a second, so I can push myself up from the ground, and in that second's hesitation, her fist finds its target in my stomach.  
The impact in the blow sends me flying several meters over the wet hillside, and I continue to roll downwards because of the steepness of the hill.  
I keep on rolling on my arm, which now is a swollen red, and it's all I can do not to scream out in pain.  
The ground is soaked in water, making it more slippery, making me roll faster and faster with every turn.  
Again and again and again the world turns and the colors blurs together in a long stroke of brown and green and blue. My arm twists awkwardly out from me, painfully heavy.  
_Bam!_ I fall directly into a tree.  
I would be grateful to be stopped from being rolled through the arena,  
if I didn't feel so much pain from my side, which took the worst of the blow from the tree.  
The world keeps on spinning, and turning under me, my eyes focusing and the blurring.  
Tears of pain begin to stream from my eyes, making me even more confused.  
I turn my head and my stomach makes a dreadful somersault, remembering what is happening.  
The girl is advancing down the hillside, arm raised, ready to throw another knife at me.  
Her mouth is open in a soundless crazy laughter "Not so tough anymore, are you?" She says mockingly.  
And then she throws the knife.  
I move again. I push myself to my feet with one arm, using the last of my energy.  
The knife whizzes past my arm, just millimeters away.  
I've barely started running when a heavy weight pushes me into the tree again.  
I'm too slow.  
I crumble together on the ground, breathless, the adrenaline all gone, my limbs exhausted.  
A tired sigh of pain escapes my sealed up mouth.  
Suddenly the heavy weight of the tribute falls on my leg, holding me down.  
She grasps the scruff of my plastic cover, straightening my back and making it difficult for me to breathe.  
"Nowhere to run now, eh?" she says, her voice as cold and unfeeling as her eyes.  
A cold-blooded murderer, that's all she is.  
She pulls a knife from her jacket, which is weighed down with rows and rows of weapons.  
Even though she must have used at least twenty knifes already, the inside of the jacket is propped with endless supplies for her.  
She probably won't even bother picking the other knifes up after she's finished with me.  
My arm is not in my control, shaking, red and swollen, and I wonder if something bad has happened, and if something vital is broken.  
I have taken so many blows, that even lying still hurts.  
My lungs are screaming for air, not satisfied by the small ragged breaths that I manage to breathe in.

A small tear rolls from the corner of my eye.  
In that tear, lays all my emotions. My last goodbyes to my dear ones at home.  
The hatred, the sadness, the laughter, the pain and the memories.  
All of it. Buried in that single tear.  
It rolls slowly down my cheek, the life I'm finally letting go.  
It's just so easy, letting go.  
Letting go of the bird that is my life, letting it fly away, riding the wind to its new home.  
It's new home, death. Because that's where I'm going. I feel hollow and numb, pained and… ready.  
I search the girl's eyes for any sign of mercy, but all I find is coldness.  
Another child, that the Games has ruined, twisted, hardened.  
There's no emotion, no sign of regret in her eyes, as she raise her arm ready to strike again.  
I have nowhere to run now.  
The knife cuts through the plastic and my tribute suit, and buries itself hard in my leg, just above my ankle.  
Ice-cold blood wells out from the cut, rapidly soaking the ground in red.  
At first the world stops, freezes, no emotion coming to me.  
It's the quiet before the storm. The still water before the wave.  
Then overwhelming pain hits me. I scream. And I scream, and scream.  
My body flips in agony, out of my control.  
All the spasms and turns my body makes only make the hurt much worse and the blood pour out faster.  
My face turns in expressions of the agony, my eyes closing and opening, my hands curling, gripping the ground, my nails digging hard into the mud.  
One of these spasms unbalances the girl and my body takes the opportunity, trying to pull itself away from the pain.  
The girl lets out an outraged scream.  
She catches the neck of the plastic and roughly sends me flying into the tree again.  
I hit it head first, blood welling from my hair. I scream in pain again, hitting the ground and curling up into a tight ball, small whimpers escaping from me.  
I am blinded by pain, blood and agony. My strength is sinking as blood continues to flow from my head and leg. I lie here almost motionless except from the rapid rise of my chest, trying to get my breath.  
The ground is soaked in rain and my blood, making the plastic sticky. I lie here waiting.  
Why doesn't she just finish me off?  
She wouldn't just leave me out here, would she? Thinking I'll probably die anyway?  
I shiver in fear at that.  
An excruciating scream, probably mine, reaches my ears.  
Then a canon booms. Mine?  
Is this really it? Am I dead now, gone? But … I don't feel dead. The pain certainly hasn't gone.  
But what if this is being dead? Frozen in time, place and feeling.  
What if I'll be lying here forever, always feeling such pain? That's just… unthinkable.  
I force my eyes open, trying to make sense of this mess. All I see is black and red.  
I can't make sense of my surroundings, since my mind is ringing in pain and confusion.  
A sound of a distant hovercraft reaches me. I strain my tired ears, but I can't hear much besides the trickling of blood. The pain in my bleeding leg doubles as it starts… moving somehow.  
It's not my leg that starts moving, but the blood, pumping rapidly through my ruined veins.  
The blood pumps faster and faster, until it completely stops.  
As it fades away, so does the feeling of my leg, leaving it numb and, in a way, gone like my arm.  
I can't move it, can't feel it, which is a relief. My exhausted mind can't think around the pain anymore, even though the pain is more than halved, with the absence of feeling from my leg.  
I don't know how long I lie here, minutes or hours, until unconsciousness finally claims me, sucking me into a world of nothing.


End file.
